


inevitable

by a_secondhand_sorrow



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Treebros, anyway, go read their treebros, implied internalized homophobia, it's a one shot so take the friends to lovers with a grain of salt, its better than mine will ever be, just kidding this has nothing t do with this fic at all, know what just, nothing bad just a bit, reclaiming the computer lab scene with some friendship, shoutout to yellow mustard for warming me up to treebros, so that's on brand, the Only Treebros Fic I Will Ever Write, they DO sit in a tree, they are the Only reason this fit exists, vague mentions of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:15:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_secondhand_sorrow/pseuds/a_secondhand_sorrow
Summary: They found each other in middle school.
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> AKA: the only treebros fic I will ever write. Just some cute friends to lovers

They found each other in middle school. 

It’s funny, isn’t it, how people tend to come into your life at the time they need to. Leave your life, too. They’d both had friends in elementary school, if not many. But once puberty hit and they were all thrown into a new, different building from the one they’d populated for the last six years, those friends disappeared in a puff of smoke, quickly enough they each questioned whether they’d existed in the first place or if they were just a trick of the eye and a well-placed mirror. 

Computer labs, in middle school, were better. Or bigger, at least, and the teachers didn’t hover over each person as though the second graders would manage to break the desktop monitors from the early 2000s. And, of course, no one who was  _ anyone  _ every purposefully spent time there. 

And so of course Evan and Connor met there in sixth grade. Not met, exactly, as they’d already known each other from six years of being in the same school and vaguely in each other’s classes, but they spoke for what was probably the first time. 

“Are you going to type anything?”

Evan startled, his eyes moving away from where they’d been locked on the computer screen as his mind traveled. To his surprise, Connor had wheeled over from where he had previously been seated across the computer lab and had chosen to stop about a foot from Evan’s own wheely chair. His permanent frown made his brown eyes appear harsher and colder than Evan would have liked to see. 

“Sor-uh, sorry? What?”

Connor nodded to the computer screen, where a cursor blinked in and out of existence on a blank word doc. “Your document. You’ve just been fucking staring at it for like, fifteen minutes.”

Evan, still an elementary schooler at heart, internally jumped at the curse word but tried to keep it out of his face. “Yeah? I, uh. I’m not following.”

Connor’s stare was obscenely judgemental. “So are you going to write anything?”

“I was going to!” Evan said, a sudden wave of defensiveness surprising him a little. “I just? I’m not really sure what to write.”

His new companion sighed. “All right. What do you want to read?”

“...What?”

“What do you want to read?” When Evan made no sign that he understood, Connor sighed again, kicking one foot across the floor. He accidentally sent himself flying back a little in the process, but he slid back forward using his other foot pretty quickly. “I watch this YouTube channel, and they have like, art tips or some shit, right? And they always say that if you don’t know what to draw then you should draw what you want to look at. It’s the same with writing, I bet. So,” and with this, Connor propelled himself forward so his right elbow rested on the table right next to Evan’s left, “what do you want to read?”

Evan thought for a moment. He wanted to read a lot, quite truthfully, but he didn’t know how much he could trust Connor with. Accepting his status as an outcast, he decided to tell him the truth. It couldn’t do too much damage. 

“I want to read encouragement.” For once, his voice didn’t waver at all. 

“Encouragement?” 

Well, too late to go back. 

“Yeah. ’Cause, you know, this whole having no friends and spending all of my free time in the computer lab thing sucks, but I need to tell myself it won’t last forever because if I don’t I’ll go insane.”

He didn’t mean any of it as a joke, and it was more of a nervous ramble than anything else, but Connor laughed and Evan found that he rather liked the sound. 

“Alright, then. Encouragement it is,” Connor decided. “Start it off. A note for yourself.”

He stole the keyboard and keyed in a ‘Dear Evan Hansen.’ Evan was surprised that Connor knew his last name, but Connor shoved the keyboard back before he could question it. 

“Uh, okay,” Evan said, and he spoke as he typed. “Today wasn’t an amazing day, and it hasn’t been an amazing year.”

“Wow, encouraging,” Connor muttered under his breath, forcing his hands onto the keyboard over Evan’s. “But you won’t be stuck in this shithole forever, so at least that’s going for you.”

“Connor!” Evan practically squeaked. “The school reads these things! You can’t swear!”

Connor just rolled his eyes and passed the keyboard back to Evan. 

The two continued on, passing the keyboard back and forth between them for each sentence. It wasn’t really  _ encouraging _ by any standard, as they’re mostly just complaining about how bad their days have been, but in the end, Evan laughed and Connor smirked while they headed to the printer, one letter with a nested haiku hidden inside later. And as Connor presented the paper to Evan with a mock-bow, he spoke again. 

“You know, you’re wrong about one thing.”

Evan’s heart almost stopped. “What?”

“You do have a friend,” Connor said. “Me.” A look stole across his face, his cheeks dropping. “If..if that’s okay.”

Evan nodded once, and Connor gave him a half smile-not the smirk of before, but a smile that seemed genuine, a peek of sunshine in a cloudy expression. 

Connor and Evan came into each other’s lives at exactly the right time when they each needed it most. Maybe it was inevitable that they would have found each other, or maybe they were just very, very lucky. Evan certainly thought that he was lucky to have Connor with him throughout the trench of middle and high school. 

And so time marched on, and nothing was certain or easy but it was still easier than it had been. Being with Connor was easy in a way that it wasn’t with any of his previous friends. He didn’t feel like he had to apologize for existing around Connor, much as he wanted to sometimes. Because it didn’t feel unnatural and uncomfortable to be around him as it often did with anyone else; being around him felt as easy as breathing, and even when his lungs failed him and closed up in anxiety, Connor was there. 

They still wrote notes to each other. They were, as Connor said, “fucking nerds,” and so they kept up the tradition, sometimes to each other and sometimes to themselves. They seemed to know which letters were okay to read and which were for the other’s eyes only; Evan’s frequent encouragements to himself were sometimes read by Connor and sometimes left alone, something he endlessly appreciated. And together, they rolled their eyes at Cynthia’s or Larry’s or Heidi’s skeptical looks when they gently prodded the two about their romantic interests or all the time they’d been spending in each other’s rooms, attempts that were surely meant to be subtle but were anything but. 

Evan found himself watching Connor in those times. He’d learned to read Connor quickly, looking for each shift in expression with a practiced eye. But his expression then was almost unreadable. His best guess was that Connor didn’t really care. He didn’t, either. He could handle the questions and skeptical looks, since all his time with Connor was truly time he cherished for the comfort he felt in their moments together, even when they didn’t speak. He was just happy to have a friend, and he thought - knew - that Connor felt the same way. 

(he ignored the growing feeling in the pit of his stomach, a great mass of tangled vines and leaves that seemed to latch itself to his skin. he told himself it was just nerves, that creeping feeling around his heart. he believed it, too. because he and Connor were meant to be best friends and best friends only.)

They spent nearly all of their time together at school and at home, and inevitably they accompanied each other on their respective family trips. Heidi had much less time off work than either of the Murphy parents did, so Evan found himself many a summer Friday packed in the car with the whole Murphy quadruple on the way to the beach an hour or so away from their town. Too afraid of getting carsick to use his phone or read on the ride, he mostly passed the time chatting with Connor and Zoe. Evan and Connor often had difficulty sustaining conversations with each other in front of other people, but Zoe didn’t seem to have this problem; she always managed to keep Evan chatting about different music genres or astronomy facts or canceled TV shows from the early 2000s. Connor usually didn’t seem to mind it, but it must have been weighing on his mind somewhat, enough that he couldn’t push it away with his normal excitement over getting to drag Evan into the ocean for half a day. 

“Do you like my sister?” Connor said softly one Friday, facing directly out to sea. He dug his feet into the soft sand as a tiny wave met his ankles. Evan almost missed it, but he realized what Connor was truly asking a moment later. 

“What? No, I, no, that’s ridiculous, I, uh, I mean-” he shook his head rapidly. Connor didn’t appear sated. “Zoe...Zoe is great. But I’m not, I don’t think that I…she’s more like a sister to me than anything else.”

Connor didn’t seem to know what to say. He further dug his toes into the sand. 

“Why?” He finally said. “Zoe is great. She’s...probably perfect for you in every fucking way.”

Evan furrowed his brow. “Why are you asking me? Did she…”

“No,” Connor rushed to clarify. “No, I don’t think she does. She didn’t ask me anything, anyway. I just…” Evan let Connor scrounge for words. “I’m wondering why you don’t feel that way when there’s someone right in front of you who’s practically the fairy tale happy ending you probably dream about.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent phrasing ever, but Evan understood what Connor was getting at. He gazed at the back of Connor’s head a few feet in front of him, and instinctively, he found himself smiling at the reality of the boy in front of him. He finally pushed forward through the wet sand and reached Connor’s side, standing shoulder to shoulder.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, running one hand over his short, coarse hair. He chanced a shift of his gaze towards Connor. The light caught on his high cheekbones, giving him an almost ethereal look. “I can’t, I guess I just can’t control things like that. Maybe if I could turn it off and on, I would feel like that...like Zoe was perfect for me. Like she and I were destined to be together.”

He saw Connor swallow roughly. 

“But I can’t. And Zoe is fantastic, but I don’t like her like that. I don’t think she and I are destined to be anything more than friends. People come into our lives for a reason, you know? And I don’t think that’s hers for me.”

And they were quiet for a moment. 

“Little too feminine for your type, I guess,” Connor finally muttered, eyes scanning out over the horizon where the sea met the sky. Evan felt a laugh bubbling up in his throat, and he backhanded Connor’s shoulder without looking at him directly. 

“Hey!”

“What?” Connor said, finally meeting Evan’s eyes. The sudden, sharp focus in them made Evan’s breath catch in his throat. “It’s the truth.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice even. “Maybe it is.”

That was the closest they’d ever come to confessing anything; even in the bright, unforgiving sun, those four words felt much larger than they really were, and he almost regretted them. They somehow seemed more dangerous in the light of day than they did when whispered under covers in the comforting darkness of nighttime. But he didn’t regret them (couldn’t, really), because the smile that Connor smiled in response was brighter than the sun reflecting off of the sandy waves. Waves that crashed into their ankles moments later, cold and harsh and salty, and it was then that Connor laughed, the sound high and clear and fitting softly into Evan’s ears. 

And into high school they marched, equally unsure of what they would face. Mostly the same as middle school, but they had each other from the beginning. They didn’t have every class together, but they had enough that they could get through the day. Connor learned that sketching helped to calm him after a day of school and Evan relearned that nature helped him. Connor joined him most days in Evan’s backyard, despite his pollen allergies. 

Evan, in true Evan style, had grabbed assorted flowers as the two walked home from school and had begun to twist them into a vague crown shape. He didn’t really know how to, but it was coming out all right. He sat with Connor in a tree in his backyard, occasionally glancing up to Connor to see his progress on another sketch. He couldn’t see what the sketch was, only a few vague shapes and lines, but he didn’t know much about drawing anyway. He was mostly just glad to have Connor with him. Smiling softly, he plucked up a small blue flower and tucked it behind his ear. 

“Is that a flower in your hair?” Connor said. He must have looked up from his sketchbook just in time to see it.

“Yes,” Evan said simply. “Would you like one?”

Connor snorted. 

“What?” Evan demanded. “It matches your aesthetic.”

“Oh, yeah. Flowers are so punk rock, Evan.”

“Punk rock,” Evan mocked just under his breath. He was rewarded with a pencil hitting him in the shoulder a moment later, followed by a grunt of annoyance from Connor as it immediately fell to the ground. 

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“That’s what you get for your violence, Con. Karma.”

“Where’s your karmic retribution for forcing me outside at the height of allergy season?”

Evan shrugged. “I’m too nice for it. My karma balances out.”

“That figures.” There was a pause, and Evan thought he’d be able to finish his flower crown in peace, but Connor’s voice called “hey, catch!” before he could. 

Immediately Evan’s pulse skyrocketed, heart in his throat. A book dropped into his lap, nearly making him drop his flower crown. He almost fell from the tree in an attempt to grab the book before it could slide from his lap, but in the end, both he and the book made it just fine, only a few years off of Evan’s life total. Evan ran his thumb over the edge of the sketchbook, where a yellow sticky note protruded slightly. 

“Jesus  _ Christ _ ,” he finally said, when he regained air in his lungs. “You know I can’t catch. Why would you do that?”

Connor shrugged. “To see you jump.”

Evan glared as best he could against the sun. 

“Well,” Connor said. “Open it.”

Evan thumbed it open to the sticky note indicated page. He was immediately accosted with his own face staring back at him, followed by an angle he could assume was what Connor could see of him while they both sat seated in the tree. He was out of breath again, but this time he just didn’t know what to say. He studied his own face; it had the same big, open eyes, skin shaded and dark and smooth against his cheeks and forehead, lips parted just slightly and turned up in the barest of smiles. And in the second he just looked  _ relaxed  _ more than anything, completely at peace in his environment. That idea, him calm and settled, nearly brought tears to his eyes. Instead, he looked out towards his house and smiled. He inhaled once, and once again, trying to work through the heavy feeling over his heart and chest. 

“Oh my God, Connor. These are...really good.”

“Well, I had a great subject to study.”

Evan can feel his cheeks darken at that, but luckily Connor doesn’t have a great vantage point to see it. He shifted on the branch in order to get a better look at Connor. He, too, appeared relaxed. Evan held the sketchbook in one hand and traded the completed flower crown into that hand as well, passing both up to Connor. “C’mon. Show us that Fae blood.”

Connor’s mouth twisted into something half smile, half grimace. “No, no thanks. No need to pay me for my work. Just leave it.”

“C’mon, Connor,” Evan whined. “Please?”

They held eyes for a moment, and Connor nodded. Grinning triumphantly, Evan watched as Connor lowered the flowers onto his head. The sun behind Connor’s head seemed to dip just behind it, giving all of Connor’s long hair the impression of catching fire with all of the light it reflected. Connor looked almost otherworldly, and Evan caught himself marveling at the fact that Connor even existed, and that he had the good fortune of knowing him. Of being allowed to force him to wear a flower crown, he thought with a smile. He felt that same pressure return to his chest, and he found himself thinking that he’d quite like to be on that branch with Connor, soaking up the light, soaking up Connor’s body heat, pressing closer to him. 

He didn’t like the idea of having that feeling, much as the feeling itself made him feel a type of lightheaded happiness that made the tips of his fingers feel tingly. No, he didn’t like having the feeling, because he knew that Connor didn’t have it. And if Connor knew that was how Evan felt...

The first day of senior year was when Evan felt like he could burst with the feeling. Even just looking at Connor hurt, as though despite his black jeans and gray sweatshirt he was filled with all the light of the sun. He found himself in the computer lab, pouring it all out into a letter to himself. 

“Well this is fucking weird, isn’t it?”

Evan’s heart jumped up into his throat. He spun in his wheely chair, his eyes automatically connecting with Connor’s. Of course Connor had known where to find him. He stood quickly, crossing Connor’s path and making a beeline for the printer. 

“What is?” He said finally. 

“Being in a computer lab. I mean, it’s not 2005 anymore. I forgot this place fucking existed.”

Evan shrugged. “I don’t know. I kind of like it. I mean-“ and he ignored the wave of nostalgia that crashed over him, the memory of Connor’s elbow next to his own at eleven years old so clear and strong that he could feel it, “remember when we used to hang out in the middle school lab?”

“Do I ever,” Connor muttered. He crossed the room in a few long strides, turning so his back leaned against the table and his shoulder was nearly against Evan’s own. Evan didn’t look at Connor, instead choosing to wait for the impossibly slow printer to print his letter to himself. “Hey,” Connor said, his voice impossibly soft. His hand reached over and settled at the corner of Evan’s jaw, which tensed out of habit. Connor didn’t pull away. He gently guided Evan’s face to look at his own. “Are you okay?”

A nervous flurry erupted low in his gut at that question. “What, I, uh, I mean-why do, do you ask?”

As Evan reached for the paper in the tray, Connor shook his head a little bit. “You’re avoiding me. You have been all day.” He swallowed roughly. “You won’t look me in the eye.”

Evan didn’t deny it. 

“Did I - God.” Connor cut himself off, closing his eyes for a moment. He reopened them, immediately focusing back into Evan. “Please just look at me, Evan.”

And Evan did. He looked into the eyes that had been beside him for almost seven years, the deep brown eyes he’d once viewed as harsh and cold but now saw untold warm, wild pools of color inside of. 

“Are you okay?” Connor said, his lips moving in a new way, as though each word was difficult for him to say. 

Evan opened his mouth, closed it again. He tried to speak again. “Yes.”

Connor’s eyes flickered down for the briefest moment. “And if I read that letter, I’d be able to see-”

“You won’t read it,” Evan said, his voice sharper than intended in his desperation. “You won’t take it.”

A muscle worked in Connor’s jaw. “No. No, I won’t.”

Evan nodded once, slowly. 

Connor’s eyes still searched his, but he couldn’t break eye contact, not anymore. Truthfully he was okay, but he wasn’t when Connor was that close to him, when his thoughts scattered in a thousand different forbidden routes. He couldn’t think with Connor’s touch, couldn’t think anything but a thousand things he wasn’t supposed to think about his best friend. He didn’t want to hurt Connor anymore. He couldn’t decide what to do, and the impulsive part of his brain, the side that wasn’t actually impulsive but was rather in tune with some plan Evan must have secretly had for years, was rapidly taking over. 

Connor’s eyes flickered down to Evan’s lips, hesitant and pained but full of so much longing that Evan felt his own heart ache. 

And then Evan kissed him. 

It felt inevitable, in some roundabout way. Like some cosmic path led them to that point, with Connor’s lips pressed to his and his hand splayed along his jawline and their hips digging sharply into each other’s. Like no matter how often they claimed straight-laced, testosterone-prone innocence, they’d end up right there. Maybe they’d professed friendship and platonic feelings to make themselves feel less guilty, and maybe they’d inevitably end up as more like they were destined to be. Maybe they were bound to be more than they could ever be, entwined in a way that others didn’t think of as  _ natural _ . 

And Connor kissed him back, and it all felt inevitable, like finally feeling a wave crash around his ankles when he turned his back to the ocean and could only hear the approaching water rather than see it. It felt inevitable, but Evan didn’t particularly care whether it should happen or not. For once, the list of things he cared about began and ended with one thing, and he had that right at his fingertips. The pressure of Connor’s body on his, all sharp angles contrasted to the soft way his lips pressed to Evan’s, drove away any other thought or desire or care he could have. He pulled Connor closer to him and felt his cheeks heat at the noise, almost feral, that Connor made when Evan parted his lips to allow Connor’s exploring. 

And he kissed him and he kissed him back, and that was more than enough, more than he could have ever imagined.

They broke apart later, and as Evan’s eyes drifted open and he saw the light catch on Connor’s eyelashes and begin to reach his eyes, he unfurled the paper from his grasp and grabbed Connor’s hand with his free hand. He pushed the letter into Connor’s fist and closed his fingers around it. Connor didn’t seem to be able to tear his eyes away from Evan’s, but after a minute he lifted the letter up. Evan studied his face as Connor’s eyes zipped across the page at superhuman speed, as they always did. He recognized the expression on his face, finally, for the first time in a while. The corners of Connor’s eyes had crinkled in amusement, but he could see the happiness flicker a little towards the middle of the page. Evan mimicked Connor’s earlier nervous reaction, one hand twisting his shirt and his chin dropping closer to his chest. He felt Connor’s soft hand at his jaw again, tilting his head back up so he could look in Evan’s eyes. 

“I would never think that,” Connor said, the slight flicker of anger making the different browns of his eyes stand out from each other in stark contrast. “Evan. I would never think that. I would never think those things. You’re—” his voice cut off, seemingly of its own accord. He continued, and his voice was a little stronger. “You’re the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me. Jesus, Evan. You’re the only good thing. I could never think that about you.” 

Evan didn’t miss the way Connor’s voice wavered towards the end. As Connor leaned in and gently pressed his lips to the corner of Evan’s mouth, he felt his arms move of their own accord and wrap themselves around Connor’s shoulders. Connor hugged him back and Evan buried his head into the base of Connor’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Connor laughed. “For what?”

“I don’t know,” Evan said, still whispering. “I don’t know. I thought that you, when you knew how I- I’m just sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Evan felt a warm, gentle pressure atop his head for just a second. He realized it was a kiss a moment later. “Don’t ever be.”

Maybe it was all inevitable.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway, yellowmustard is the only reason this fic exists for their beautiful portrayal of evan and connor that warmed me up to this ship, so go check 'em out. comment n' kudos if you're so inclined. my classes are canceled for a Long While so expect some more content over the next few weeks!


End file.
